


where this flower blooms

by chelouple28, lulu_and_eli



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sexual Tension, Strangers to Lovers, skate dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelouple28/pseuds/chelouple28, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulu_and_eli/pseuds/lulu_and_eli
Summary: Lucas’ eyes land on a particular artist, one with wild brown hair and a chiseled jawline, and his eyes widen.He tears his gaze from the photo, glancing below it, and spots his name.Eliott Demaury: Specializes in fine line work, geometric elements, and botanicals.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 30
Kudos: 291





	where this flower blooms

**Author's Note:**

> hellooooooo!  
> helen and ro here!  
> we're very excited to share this work with you guys. we've been working on it for quite a long time (likeeee four months but don't worry about it), we hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as we loved writing it!  
> happy reading, stay safe❤️

“Guys.”

Lucas’ head lolls towards the source of the sound. He squints at the blurry figure sitting next to him on the sidewalk, having to blink a few times before Yann’s face materializes in his line of vision. He gives a mindless hum, Arthur and Basile producing similar sounds of nonchalance to his right, and snuggles back against his wall. 

It’s a nice wall. Solid. A bit cold on his back, but he’s willing to overlook that. The alcohol from earlier and the joint they're currently passing around are providing him with enough warmth.

“ _Guys_ ,” Yann says again, impatiently, something close to a whine that makes Lucas snort. “I just had the best fucking idea _ever_. Pay attention to me.”

Lucas raises his eyebrows. “Okay?”

“Hit us, bro.” Arthur pipes in, blowing a cloud of white smoke into the dark sky before taking another drag of the blunt. Lucas elbows him hard on the ribs and he passes it to Lucas’ waiting hand with a deep grumble. “Jesus, Lucas.”

Lucas turns his head to grin at him with the blunt between his lips and twinkling eyes.

Suddenly there’s a hand buried in his hair and he yelps loudly when Yann yanks on it. “Attention, I said.” Yann whines this time. Lucas rolls his eyes, crossing his arms with pursed lips, but waits patiently for Yann’s revolutionary idea. “So I was thinking. And hear me out here, this is gonna rock your fucking world. _Tattoos_. For the four of us.” Lucas snorts, and Yann bats at his shoulder. “Listen. Imagine this: the four of us, a huge fucking smoking gun on our arms. Our own personal gang stamp. And if someone wants to join our gang, they have to get it too, otherwise they’re out. Bam.”

Okay then.

The city seems to fall silent then, just the sound of his heartbeat in his ears and fabric rustling as Basile goes to reach for the joint filtering through the night. Lucas presses his lip in a thin line, bites the inside of his cheek, fingers thrumming against his crossed legs awkwardly. He smacks his lips together, looking up.

The sky is nice, too. Very blue. Shiny with stars. He likes the stars. He likes his friends too, he supposes, but the stars don’t wake him up from his nap to drag him to a cheap freshman party. Or come up with absurd ideas. 

A smoking gun? What even the fuck is Yann on? Everyone knows their legacy lies in the shape of a joint. He wonders for a second if he could come up with a way to convince them to get a star on their shoulder instead, or that joint maybe. They’d look badass, if Lucas does say so himself. And a second later he realizes he’s actually considering Yann’s proposition.

His eyes widen with horror, and then-

“That’s a _genius_ idea!”

Murmurs of agreement break through the night, quiet chattering that turns into excited screaming, and Lucas finds himself nodding along to Arthur’s reasoning for it. So okay, maybe he wouldn’t mind getting a tattoo. They’re pretty. And getting matching tattoos with his friends makes his insides warm up inexplicably. He’s always had a difficult dynamic with trust and keeping people around, alright? But then with everything that happened during his last year of high school, he thought he would have to start from scratch again, but he didn’t. His friends just patted him on the back and they went on like nothing had changed, although Lucas saw more than one death glare being thrown over his back at every person who would look at him funny for the first couple of months.

Maybe he likes the stars better than his friends. The thought makes his eyes shine with tears, and he grimaces at himself in disgust. 

“Well, you coming?” Lucas lifts his head up to see Yann offering his hand with a lopsided smile. He takes it and stands on wobbly legs, supporting himself on the concrete wall. Pats it once in acknowledgement for its effective job at holding him up and runs after his friends.

Yann laughs when Lucas throws himself at him, making the both of them stumble on their feet. Lucas wraps his arms around Yann’s neck, laughing, stuffing his face on Yann’s hoodie as Basile and Arthur holler next to them. His face fills with heat, excitement running through his veins, and he plants a loud kiss on Yann’s shoulder, their loud laughter echoing through the empty dark streets of Paris. 

Neon colors suddenly fill his vision, purple and blue and green lights that have him blinking a few times. _La Petite Ceinture_ in bright letters stares back at him, and something about it makes Lucas’ stomach flip.

They’re doing this, then. 

***

Yann leads the way towards the door of the tattoo parlor, flinging it open, and the four of them pile through the door in a frenzy, stumbling and tripping over their own feet, laughing and cursing. They’re causing a complete scene in what is an otherwise quiet space; there isn’t anyone else there, just a large room with the walls painted a deep red, and frames hung up on every square inch displaying tattoo designs.

Lucas, while Yann, Basile, and Arthur are fighting over who will get the tattoo first, takes note of a certain poster that’s hung up behind the front desk. _Meet Our Artists!_ , it says, in a bold yellow font. There’s around ten photos with brief descriptions of each artist, giving what types of tattoos they specialize in and their walk-in hours. Then, Lucas’ eyes land on a particular artist, one with wild brown hair and a chiseled jawline, and his eyes widen. Because holy shit this is the _hottest_ guy he’s ever seen. 

He tears his gaze from the photo, glancing below it, and spots his name. _Eliott Demaury: Specializes in fine line work, geometric elements, and botanicals._ Lucas can just imagine sitting in the tattooing chair, Eliott’s eyes focused on his skin, touching him, giving him the same radiant smile shown in the photo, and suddenly he can’t think.

He’s just about to turn around and grab Yann’s arm to tell him about it, when a door in the back swings open and-

Eliott. Lucas almost coughs in shock but he swallows it down, trying to regain his breath. He’s even more gorgeous in person, if it’s possible. He’s _tall_ , wearing black ripped jeans and a simple black t-shirt. He has a ring on almost every finger, and Lucas thinks he can spot a hoop on one of his ears. There’s tattoos covering almost every visible inch of skin, and Lucas catches a glimpse of one coming up from the neckline of his shirt. 

Eliott walks in and then stops promptly, eyes going wide in surprise, clearly not expecting to see anyone in the shop. His eyes flit around, taking in the scene in front of him, and when his eyes land on Lucas’ for a split second, Lucas feels all of his blood rush south. 

“Hey guys, what can I do for you tonight?” Eliott asks, walking over to stand in front of them, hands on his hips expectantly. “Were you thinking about getting some ink?” His voice is smooth like butter, higher than Lucas would have expected. It makes his heartbeat stutter.

Lucas is about to open his mouth to answer, but Basile beats him to it, moving to stand in front of Eliott, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Oh fuck yeah! We’re all best friends and we wanna get matching tattoos, huge badass guns on our arms.” Basile rolls up his shirtsleeve, ridiculously flexing his bicep, and they all join in, even Lucas, who’s still feeling the effects of the alcohol and weed and can’t really stop himself from doing something completely embarrassing in front of Eliott just yet.

Eliott just seems amused, holding back a laugh as he steps back, putting some space in between himself and the guys. Lucas thinks he just wants to get closer to Eliott, rip off his clothes and find every single tattoo he has hidden on his body, and press a kiss to each one.

Eliott’s face sobers up. “Listen,” Eliott begins, running a hand through his already messy hair, “If you guys really want to get the tattoos, you can come back tomorrow. But I won’t tattoo you guys right now.” He shakes his head and presses his lips into a firm line, like he’s a teacher telling a student they’re failing a class. Lucas finds it adorable and he has to physically hold himself back from running forward and turning the corners of Eliott’s mouth back into a smile.

The four of them let out dramatic groans of frustration, Basile throwing his head into his hands and Yann looking like he’s a second away from falling onto the floor in tears.

“But _bro_ , we need these tattoos. We’re a _gang_ , we gotta show everyone!” Arthur groans, practically yelling in Eliott’s face, and Lucas is worried for a moment that it will piss Eliott off, but Eliott only chuckles, looking at the ground and then back up at Arthur, placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Guys, I can tell you’re all drunk. And as much as I love the tattoo enthusiasm, it wouldn’t be right for me to tattoo you while you’re not sober. You’ll probably regret it, so I won’t do it. Come back another time.” Eliott’s gaze lands on Lucas when he says _come back another time_ , staying there for a long moment, and Lucas swears his heart jumps into his throat. 

Yann, Basile, and Arthur begin another string of nonsensical complaints, filled with _come on, just do it_ and _please?_ and Lucas finds himself annoyed with them; he just really doesn’t want to give Eliott a hard time, and he had said they could come back, _while_ looking directly at Lucas, he might add- he’s not one for bragging, but...

“Come on guys, just leave it,” Lucas says, trying to put some distance between the guys and Eliott. He can practically feel Eliott’s eyes staring into the back of his head as he looks at his friends. “We’ll just come back, okay?”

They seem to relax at Lucas giving them the command instead of Eliott, dropping their heads and mumbling choruses of _fine, whatever._

Lucas dares to turn back around to look at Eliott, who seems to be standing closer to Lucas than he was before. Lucas nearly loses his train of thought, mesmerized by Eliott’s gray eyes and pink lips. 

“I- uh, we’ll come back. Sorry,” Lucas mutters, barely able to look Eliott in the eyes now. He turns to join the guys, who are making their way out of the parlor, when he feels fingers wrapping around his arm. Lucas flinches and turns his head to find Eliott looking at him, with such intense curiosity that Lucas can’t really process at the moment in his hazy state.

“What’s your name?” Eliott asks quietly, his grip loosening slightly on Lucas’ arm, but not letting go. Lucas is glad he doesn’t let go.

“Lucas,” he breathes out, any actual speaking skills lost as he stares at Eliott.

Eliott smiles warmly, his eyes crinkling up at the sides, as he squeezes Lucas’ arm once more before letting go. 

“I hope you’ll come back soon, Lucas,” he says in a deep voice, different from how he had spoken before. Lucas feels the breath leave his lungs as Eliott bites his lip, looking Lucas up and down. And _fuck_ , Lucas needs to get out of here before he does anything else to make a bigger idiot of himself.

He turns quickly, almost tripping over his own feet. “Yeah, uh, bye!” he exclaims stupidly as he throws the door open and runs to catch up with the guys on the street, leaving Eliott alone again in the parlor.

***

It’s two days later when Lucas finds the card inside the pocket of his jeans.

“Dude, fucking do your laundry for once.” Yann had yelled. “Your room smells like sweat and you’ve been wearing that t-shirt since last week. Respect yourself, bro.”

So Lucas did. And amongst all the chaos; dirty socks, ratty t-shirts and used tissues scattered all around his bedroom floor - so maybe Yann did have a point - he had found it. Piled up in the far corner of his bedroom, the sleeve of a black hoodie peeking out from under the bed and the ripped jeans he only uses for when he wants to get lucky. His clothes from Friday night.

He picks them up from the floor, grimacing at the smell. So _that’s_ where the sweat smell was coming from. And the alcohol smell. And the weed smell. Okay, so maybe he is well past respecting himself. It’s the weekend, no one should be subjected to being responsible between Friday afternoon and Monday morning. It’s an unwritten rule somewhere.

With a deep sigh he turns the clothes over, rolls them up in a ball and throws it across the room into the laundry basket. He lets out a victorious shout when they land inside the open basket before resuming back to his cleaning spree. 

“ _Respect yourself bro_ , he says.” Lucas grumbles between sock and sock. He squints at them before shrugging, deeming them similar enough that they can pass off as a pair, then throws them towards the laundry basket too. “ _You’re a lazy ass Lucas_ , he says. Well, guess what Yann, by the time I’m done with my room you’re gonna beg me to move here and then- huh.”

His fingers brush against cardboard when he bends to pick another t-shirt. He frowns at the pocket sized card on his bedroom floor, t-shirt tossed aside for a second as he moves to pick it up with curious fingers. He turns the card in his hand, frown deepening, tilting his head to one side as if somehow that will explain why he has a pocket sized card that says _Tattoo Shop La Petite Ceinture - contact info._

“The hell?” He quickly shoves the card in the pocket of his sweatpants before walking into the hallway. “Um, Yann? Dude?” 

Yann sticks his head out of the kitchen with a questioning look. “Yo?”

“Do you know what this,” he asks, taking the card out and showing it to him “is?”

“Hm. Let me take a look at that.”

Lucas passes the card to his friend, albeit grudgingly, shifting his weight from one feet to the other as he waits for Yann to be done with all the inspecting. He drums his fingers on his arm, tongue pushing at his inside cheek with annoyance, because he has little to no patience, and Yann shoots him a quick dirty look. 

Who takes so long to read a fucking pocket sized card?

After what seems like forever, Yann finally lowers the card. His gaze turns towards Lucas and he makes a sound high in his throat, eyes shining with mirth. If Lucas knows his best friend enough, and he’d like to think he does, he already regrets showing the card to him.

“Well?”

Yann’s face splits into a shit-eating grin.

“What is it?” Lucas pushes. “Don’t tell me I hooked up with a hot tattoo artist and I can’t remember.”

Yann’s grin only widens at his words. “Actually-” 

“Yes?” 

“No.”

Lucas groans, hiding his face behind his hands. He blindly reaches to kick Yann’s bare shin with his foot, and the anguished yelp makes him feel better. “Well, fuck you too, Yann.”

“What?” Yann laughs, throwing his hands up in mock-surrender. Lucas only gives him a sour look that makes him laugh harder. “It’s not my fault you have an ugly face.”

“I _do not_ have an ugly face? The fuck?” Lucas squeaks. “I totally could pull anyone if I really wanted to, even a hot tattoo artist. I just don’t, for, you know.” He waves his hand in the air. “Reasons.”

Those reasons being he’s scared of abandonment, and only thinking about getting attached to any of the drunken fucks he’s ever had makes his stomach churn. He’s fine with admiring cute guys from afar, kissing them a little with the taste of mint and vodka on their tongues, and not remembering much of it the next day. Better than waking up curled up next to them and hearing a _Leo, right? Fun night._ So he just. Hasn’t fucked in a few months.

But he’s fine. 

Yann lets out a poorly concealed snort that makes Lucas narrow his eyes. He takes one step closer to Yann, who only looks at him mildly amused, and raises his fist to punch him in the shoulder.

Yann catches his wrist when he pulls back for another punch, eyes still dancing with amusement, and Lucas wants to murder his friend sometimes. “Yeah?” Yann laughs. “Even the hot tattoo artist you kept trying to drop your pants for on Friday night?”

He _what_ now.

“I _what_?” Lucas repeats.

“You don’t remember? Oh man. This is gold, absolutely gold.” Yann has to support himself on his shoulder as he laughs, and really, if he could tell Lucas what’s going on that’d be nice. “How fucked up were you? You’re such a lightweight, Lucas, I swear. That guy? From the tattoo shop?”

“We went to a tattoo shop? When?”

“Friday night, bro.” Lucas throws him a look that screams _you don’t say_. Yann rolls his eyes. “Just after we finished the joint and before Bas threw up behind those bushes at the parking lot. Rings any bell?”

And it doesn’t, not really. 

He frowns, going through all the memories he has of Friday, his face scrunching up further the deeper into the night his memories run. The stupid party, that he remembers clearly, because it was lame, and they had to bring their own booze, and the music that was playing had given him a headache. Dancing in the bathroom with the guys. Drunk Instagram stories on the bathroom mirror. The cold against his ass and on his cheeks, and a nice wall behind his back; the press of a joint between his fingers, laughter, feeling strangely alive, more laughter. A hug. Blinding lights. And then a smile. A beautiful smile. Ringing in his ears, and a beautiful smile. A guy. The inside of a shop. A guy. Warmth in his face. Another smile. 

Maybe it does.

“I think so.” Lucas murmurs. He gives Yann a helpless look. “I don’t remember much. There was a guy?”

“My dear friend,” Yann starts, throwing his arm around Lucas’ shoulder. “There was indeed a guy. We went to this tattoo shop, I don’t remember exactly why? But it had to be for a stupid reason, because the dude almost had to throw us out. You two wouldn’t stop looking at each other though, honestly, I felt like throwing up in my mouth a little watching it. But I think that was just the booze. His name’s Eliott, I think.”

_Eliott._

_Eliott. Specializes in fine line work, geometric elements, and botanicals_. 

“Eliott,” Lucas breathes out. He closes his eyes, and sees the boy in his mind. Wild brown hair and sharp yaw. Tall. Tattoos, on his arms and peaking out from his t-shirt. Bright eyes. A beautiful laugh. His breath hitches. “Do you remember anything he said? To us? Did he say something to me?”

Yann shrugs apologetically. “Said to come back when we were sober. He was pretty adamant about not tattooing us while drunk, which, bless the man. Other than that, though? I don’t really remember. But he came up to you when we were leaving. Must’ve been good, whatever he told you, with the way you floated all the way through to our apartment after that.”

“Fuck.”

“You could always go back? You’ve been saying you want to get that tattoo for your mom since you were sixteen. I think this is a perfect excuse to finally get it done.”

And Lucas could kiss his best friend right now. His heart picks up at the thought of Eliott tattooing on him what he’s been daydreaming of since the day he turned fourteen, and his mama had read to him a book about lions and magic and beautiful creatures as he fell asleep on her lap, the first day in a long time that she had been present enough to read to him; since the day he turned sixteen, and him and Yann were sprawled on his best friend’s bed, feet up on the wall as they watched a shitty tv-show rerun, when Yann had turned to him and asked _do you think you’d ever get a tattoo?_ and Lucas had shrugged before answering with a careful _I don’t know. I think so_.

He’s stopped by a hand pulling on his t-shirt before he can move to his room.  
“Where do you think you’re going, idiot?”

Lucas looks at Yann over his shoulder, excitement running through his veins. “Shower, then to the tattoo shop.”

Yann licks his lips before shaking his head. “It’s Sunday, you moron. Control your dick, and go back to doing laundry.”

Lucas groans.

Well, there goes his plans for this afternoon.

***

“Dude, this is so embarrassing. Even for you.”

Lucas roughly throws his favorite hoodie on, underestimating the toll it would take on his hair, and he lets out an exasperated breath as he rushes to his mirror to try and tame the unruly mess on top of his head. Yann is leaning against the bathroom doorway, in between Lucas’ room and the bathroom, and much to Lucas’ displeasure he’s taking every opportunity he can to mercilessly tease Lucas for what he’s doing.

It’s not like Lucas needs Yann to remind him. Lucas already knows how ridiculous this situation is; he’s met Eliott _once_ , if he can even call it that, because he wasn’t even sober. They don’t know each other at all, other than the fact that Eliott’s a tattoo artist and that Lucas is a drunk idiot. Even though he’s had an idea for a tattoo for years, the whole thing kind of freaks him out. The thought of a needle digging into his skin over and over is almost enough to make his skin crawl, but-- the prospect of never seeing Eliott again is worse.

The way Eliott had looked at him, past the other guys, the way he had gripped his arm and smiled, it just made Lucas feel something he’d never felt before. Not just attraction, but an overwhelming warmth, encompassing his entire body, which Lucas wants to run towards.

And besides that, it’s almost been a week since that night at the tattoo parlor. Lucas hadn’t been able to go any sooner because of a stupid tutoring gig Imane had hooked him up with, and of course his shifts are on Mondays and Tuesdays, leaving Wednesday his first opportunity to get back to the tattoo shop. At this point Eliott probably thinks Lucas has forgotten all about it, or maybe he’s found some other drunk idiot to flirt with, and Lucas just can’t stand that. 

Once he’s satisfied with the nest that is his hair, he turns on his heel past Yann’s narrow eyes and towards the front door, grabbing his keys.

“Trust me, Yann,” he shouts back, turning his head to look at his best friend, “I don’t need you to tell me how pathetic I am,” he grumbles, shoving his feet in his sneakers.

“Aw bro, that’s not it. It’s cute, really. I just can’t wait for Eliott to tell your future children about how you went and paid money to get a fucking tattoo from him just because you remembered him being hot when you drunkenly met him,” Yann laughs, making a pouty face, standing in between Lucas and the front door.

“Oh, fuck off. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Lucas shoves him out of the way and opens the door, beginning to make his way down the stairs, ignoring Yann calling, _don’t forget to send me a wedding invitation!_

***

Lucas had almost turned back three times.

After getting outside, into the fresh air and alone with his thoughts and without Yann to distract him, he began to really second guess his judgment. After all, he _had_ met Eliott when he was drunk, so he totally could have miscalculated the signals he thought Eliott had given him. For all Lucas knows Eliott is straight, and just a really nice and welcoming person.

But now, Lucas stands on the corner looking directly into the tattoo parlor, and he can see Eliott-- he’s in the back, turned away from Lucas, and suddenly all of Lucas’ insecurities disappear. It’s like at this one tiny glimpse of Eliott, Lucas instantly needs more.

He takes the final step forward and opens the door, walking into the parlor. The sound of the door opening and closing gets Eliott’s attention, and he quickly turns and puts on his best customer-greeting smile, some sort of welcoming remark probably already on the tip of his tongue.

His eyes widen in surprise and his smile changes a bit, though, when he sees it’s Lucas. Not in a bad way necessarily, it just shifts from big and forced to easy and light. It makes Lucas’ stomach flutter with butterflies.

“Welcome back, Lucas,” Eliott says kindly, as he takes a few steps over so he’s standing behind the big desk, leaning on his elbows. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you again.”

Lucas smiles and walks to the desk, resting his arms on top, so he’s directly level with Eliott’s face, and the sight almost takes his breath away so he’s not able to speak. He’s even more beautiful than Lucas’ blurry memories told him-- the crazy brown hair is now a beautiful, golden brown cascade of hair that Lucas longs to run his fingers through; the gray eyes have become a sea of not only gray, but green and some blue thrown in; his lips, previously two moving structures on Eliott’s face, are now blush pink and begging for Lucas to run his thumb across.

“Well, I couldn’t have you thinking I went and got too scared to get a tattoo, could I?”

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

Eliott chuckles, leaning closer. “Are you scared?” He says softly, like a whisper, like a child asking a friend if he’s scared of the dark.

“No, I’m not scared,” Lucas responds, but it comes out all breathy and it pretty much ruins the confident front Lucas had been trying to put up. He really should have known that the whole thing would end once he saw Eliott again. 

Eliott leans back abruptly, and Lucas is mortified as he almost throws himself forward to keep the close distance between them. “If you’re so sure, do you have an idea for what you want to get?” 

Lucas picks at his fingernails, looking down for a moment. He _does_ know what he wants to get, it’s the only thing he’s ever thought of getting as a tattoo.

“A dandelion.” He says simply, not explaining any further. He looks hesitantly back to Eliott to catch his reaction. His face just softens.

“A dandelion,” Eliott repeats and nods, like he can imagine what it should look like already. “Where do you want it?”

“On my left hip,” Lucas replies quickly, biting his lip. He’s really trying not to think too much about Eliott’s hands touching him _there_ , but it’s rapidly backfiring as he can see Eliott smirking at him while he plays with the rings on his fingers.

“Hm. It’ll look good there,” Eliott says, looking at him so intensely Lucas is seriously worried about this becoming problematic, especially in his sweatpants. “If you want I can come up with a few designs, and you can pick which one you like best. You can go sit on the chair and get comfortable while you wait.”

Lucas swallows and nods, making his way over to the large leather chair and he hops up, enjoying the view of Eliott hunched over the desk, furrowing his eyebrows as he concentrates on the designs. Lucas thinks it’s amazing, how someone can just whip up art like that, in seconds. It only makes Eliott more beautiful and untouchable in his eyes.

After what could have only been a few minutes of waiting, Eliott saunters over to where Lucas sits and presents him with a sheet filled with design ideas. 

“What do you think?” Eliott asks, biting his lip like he’s nervous to hear Lucas’ opinion. Eliott has created six designs for Lucas to choose from, ranging from more cartoon style to realistic.

“They’re amazing, Eliott,” he breathes out, running his fingers over the page, as if they’re real dandelions about to spring off the paper. His gaze lands on one of a realistic-looking dandelion, with a few of the petals flying off as if a breeze carried them away. He points to it.

“This one. It’s perfect.” 

“Yeah? You sure?”

“I’m sure. I love it.” Lucas smiles, glancing up at Eliott, who’s already grinning down at Lucas.

“Okay, then. I guess we can get started. I’ll get everything ready and I’ll lean the chair back so you’ll be lying almost all the way down.” Eliott moves to reposition the chair and as Lucas adjusts, he admires the way Eliott goes about organizing the equipment, setting everything up on a tray in a straight line. The way Eliott smiles is gorgeous, but this is too, in a different way; the concentration, the narrow eyes, tongue sticking out as he gets the ink ready, the focus he takes when scanning the drawing onto a separate sheet of paper.

“You’ll probably need to take your hoodie off, so there’s less clothes in the way,” Eliott mumbles as he walks back over to Lucas. 

“O-oh yeah, of course,” Lucas stutters, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it on the ground. He’s admittedly starting to get a bit nervous, because there wasn’t really a lot of thought that went into this decision, it was made completely on a gay whim. Now that he’s here, all he’s thinking about how much it’s going to hurt and how he’s probably gonna embarrass the fuck out of himself in front of Eliott.

Once Lucas’ hoodie is off, Eliott lifts the bottom of Lucas’ t-shirt with a gloved hand so that his hip is exposed. “Is it, uh,” Eliott coughs, “is it okay with you if I pull down the waistband of your sweatpants a bit? To get more room?”

Lucas’ mind races as he thinks about the prospect of Eliott _pulling his pants down_ but he clears his throat and says, “yeah, sure.”

Eliott nods and proceeds, taking his pants down just a couple inches, revealing a greater area of his hip to work on. And Lucas _really_ hopes Eliott doesn’t notice how his breath hitches when his fingers, even through gloves, touch his skin.

“Okay, so I’m just going to clean the area and then put the drawing on your skin with a temporary ink so I have it to work off of when I’m giving you the real ink,” Eliott explains as he grabs what he needs to clean Lucas’ skin. 

Once he’s done sterilizing everything and the drawing is set on Lucas’ skin, Eliott leans back on the stool he’s been sitting on and looks at Lucas.

“Are you ready?”

Lucas takes a breath. “Yeah, I’m ready. Just, how much is it gonna hurt?”

Eliott shrugs and grins. “It’s not terrible.”

“Oh, sure. Says the guy with a million tattoos.”

“No, really. It’ll hurt at first but as I keep going you’ll get used to it and it won’t be so bad, I promise. And if you want, you can squeeze my shoulder to help with the pain.”

Yeah. Okay.

“I may just take you up on that,” Lucas chuckles nervously as Eliott takes the tattoo gun in his hand and rolls his stool directly back next to where Lucas lies.

“Try to relax. The design isn’t too big so it won’t take very long. I’ll get started now, okay?” Eliott asks, looking directly at Lucas for confirmation.

Lucas nods, surely. “Okay, yeah. Go.”

Eliott turns on the tattoo machine, which makes a terrifying buzzing noise, and he starts. For the first few seconds the pain is tolerable, but then Eliott runs the gun over a part of Lucas’ hipbone and he sucks in a pained breath, immediately reaching a hand down to clutch tightly at Eliott’s shoulder, squeezing hard.

Lucas can feel Eliott tense slightly under the touch. “Sorry,” Lucas gasps, “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“No, no, it’s alright. I said you can squeeze my shoulder and you can. It really does help with the pain,” Eliott responds calmly as he continues to focus on what he’s doing.

So Lucas does; he keeps his hand on Eliott’s shoulder, gripping desperately when the pain is almost blinding and relaxing when it’s not, just resting there on Eliott’s body.

They sit there in silence for the first twenty minutes, the only noise being the tattoo gun and the music that’s playing lightly over the speakers. Lucas takes the time when he’s not squeezing his eyes shut to stare at Eliott’s side profile like this, the curve of his nose, his heightened cheekbones, and his sharp jaw. Really, the fact that he has this view _and_ Eliott’s hands are dancing that low on his hip and he’s not absolutely combusting, Lucas should win a damn medal.

Lucas is the first to speak. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come back?” He thinks back to the first thing Eliott said when he had walked in today.

Eliott pauses for a moment in thought, before going back in on a particularly painful spot, causing Lucas to tighten his grip on his shoulder once again.

“I mean, you were drunk the last time so I couldn’t even be sure you would remember anything that happened.”

As if Lucas could ever forget Eliott’s face. Ridiculous.

“And, I don’t know. I was afraid I had come off too intense and freaked you out. I was scared I had overstepped and made you uncomfortable, like when I touched your arm and asked for your name,” Eliott admits, not looking up at all from Lucas’ hip.

“I wasn’t freaked out,” Lucas states quickly. “I was flustered, for sure. I was drunk and I barely knew what was happening but this gorgeous guy was touching me and asking for my name. I wouldn’t have forgotten that.”

Eliott stops tattooing and looks up at Lucas for the first time since he started, a playful smile stretching across his face. “Gorgeous guy, huh.”

Lucas feels a deep blush spread across his cheeks. “I just- I mean, you’ve seen yourself, you know what I mean.”

“Hm. Maybe. But I’ve seen you, and I know what you mean.”

Lucas’ mouth drops open, speechless, as Eliott just grins like a little shit and goes back to work. Had Eliott really just called Lucas gorgeous? He said it so easily, like one says that the sky is blue. Lucas’ heart races in his chest, and not just because of the pain of the tattoo. Eliott thinks Lucas is gorgeous. Eliott had wanted Lucas to come back to the tattoo shop, even after he’d had to deal with him as a drunken mess. That hand on Lucas’ arm the other night had been deliberate. And now Lucas is silently freaking out because this really feels like borderline flirting. But before Lucas can say anything else, Eliott jumps into the silence again.

“Can I ask, why a dandelion?”

Before coming in today, Lucas hadn’t been sure if he was going to tell Eliott the point of the dandelion, but now that he had asked so politely and called Lucas gorgeous, who the hell is Lucas to say no? So, he tells Eliott.

“It’s a thing between my mom and I when I was a kid,” Lucas starts. “Whenever I had a bad day, or she had a bad day, we would go outside and we would pick bunches of dandelions for each other. The fuzzy ones. We would give each other a sort of bouquet so that we each had a ton of wishes to make. And then we would blow on them and watch the wispy petals fly away. It sounds kind of dumb, but it would really make us feel better when we were down.”

“That’s not dumb at all,” Eliott responds immediately. “It’s sweet. Sometimes we all need something small to get us through, even if doesn’t really do anything, you know?”

“I’m glad you understand,” Lucas laughs lightly, “I was afraid I would end up sounding stupid when I explained it.”

Eliott smiles, working on the intricacy of the dandelion wisps. “I do understand. I’m bipolar, so even when I’m depressed and I don’t want to do anything, the tiniest things can make me feel better. Stuff like that can really make a difference.”

“You’re bipolar?”

Eliott stops his movements again, lifting the gun and glancing back to Lucas. “Oh, uh, yeah. Was that too much? Should I not have said that?”

Lucas shakes his head. “No, no, not at all. My mom’s bipolar too so I get it. It shouldn’t be kept a secret.”

Eliott grins sweetly and whispers, “I agree,” as he goes back to work. 

Another stretch of time in silence passes, the pattern of Lucas’ hand tensing and relaxing on Eliott’s shoulder continuing in a steady rhythm. 

Soon enough, Eliott is sitting back, wiping the ink from Lucas’ skin one final time with the cloth. “Okay, it’s done. What do you think?” Lucas tears his eyes from Eliott’s face and looks down at his hip, at Eliott’s final product that’s now etched onto his skin, forever.

His breath catches when he sees the stem of the dandelion, which starts low on his hip, stretching up a few inches to his waist and blooming into the almost-full dandelion. Eliott’s work is incredible- the texture of the dandelion’s fuzzy petals is tangible on his skin and Lucas almost wants to smooth his fingers over it to see if he’ll be able to feel the softness. Then, a few wispy petals that are detached from the stem are floating away, up towards his ribs. 

“Wow,” Lucas breathes out, looking back at Eliott, who’s looking at Lucas expectantly with his bottom lip between his teeth. “It’s really good, Eliott. _Really_ good, like, better than what I expected. Thank you, thank you so much.”

Eliott’s face pulls back into a smile, taking off his gloves and tossing them aside on the tray. “I’m glad. Only my best work for you,” he adds, _winking_ at Lucas as he goes to bring the chair back so Lucas is sitting up. Lucas blushes, deciding to avert his eyes back to his tattoo, where Eliott’s hands had been just a few minutes ago. His hands touching Lucas’ skin, just the miniscule barrier of the gloves blocking the contact. Lucas stifles a shiver.

“Should I pull my pants back up over it now?” Lucas asks, but he’s already grabbing the waistband of his pants and moving them back up to cover his hip. 

Eliott’s eyes widen. “No!” He moves quickly, placing one hand over Lucas’ and one on the skin right next to Lucas’ tattoo, on the side of his hip. He’s gripping Lucas so firmly that Lucas feels like he might pass out. Eliott looks at Lucas, eyes huge and searching, and Lucas feels his heartbeat race. 

“Sorry,” Eliott says, loosening his hold. “It will take some time to heal. The skin is still exposed so I have to put a bandage over it and it’ll have to stay for a day or two.” Once he sees that Lucas understands, Eliott removes his hands completely from Lucas. The loss already leaves a burning, tingling sensation: almost like a tattoo itself, but less pain, just pure electricity.

“Oh, okay. That’s fine,” Lucas replies as calmly as possible as he relaxes into the seat again. 

Eliott grins and rummages through the supplies on his tray until he finds a large bandage for Lucas’ tattoo. He tears it open and places it over the tattoo, smoothing over it with his hands, and _jesus_ Lucas thinks he’s going to die just from the sight of Eliott’s huge hands pressing so firmly into his side. But no, that’s just the beginning, because once Eliott’s got the bandage in place, he moves his hands down and grips the waistband of both Lucas’ briefs and sweatpants, slowly, achingly, pulling them back up until they’re snug on Lucas’ hips again. He keeps his eyes on Lucas’ the entire time, like Lucas could have stopped him if he had wanted him to. The intensity of his gaze is searing, and Lucas feels his pants becoming increasingly restrictive. 

“There you go,” Eliott says softly, still looking at Lucas. Lucas doesn’t dare look away either. He’s so mesmerized by Eliott’s face and his hands and he’s so turned on that he’s holding his breath to keep from letting a lustful gasp out.

“Thanks,” Lucas whispers, flicking his gaze to Eliott’s lips for a moment. They’re impossibly pink and they look so soft, and Lucas just wants to reach out and run the pad of his thumb over them, memorizing their shape. Eliott parts his lips slightly and wets them with a quick flick of his tongue, and Lucas wants to lunge forward and grab Eliott’s face and kiss him senseless except-

The bell rings, signaling someone entering the shop. Eliott snaps his face back, blinking his eyes wide open and turning his head to look at the new customers who have just entered.

Lucas feels as though his entire body is lit up in a single flame that is Eliott Demaury. He feels his touch on every inch of his skin and his full-of-want gaze invading each tiny crevice in his soul. Lucas wants to curse those people who’ve just walked in, because he desperately wants to tangle his fingers in Eliott’s hair and turn him back around and crash their lips together.

Eliott hastily stands up, wiping his hands on his pants. “I’ll be with you guys in just a moment,” he says, and it’s so kind and warm that Lucas has a hard time believing that that’s the same person who was just making Lucas go feral with just a look of his eyes. Lucas hops off from the chair, collecting his hoodie from the ground and holding it to his side. Eliott turns back to him with a bit of a panicked look on his face, like he wants to say something but he isn’t saying it. 

“Phone number!” Eliott suddenly blurts out. 

Lucas tilts his head. “Um. Phone number?”

“Yeah, for if anything starts to get weird with the tattoo or on the small chance it becomes infected,” Eliott explains, seeming flustered. He runs to the front desk and grabs a business card and a pen, scrawling something on the back. “Here, I’m writing my cell phone number. You can call or text me if something goes wrong. Or just, um, whatever.” He thrusts the card towards Lucas, and Lucas takes it gingerly, being careful to avoid touching Eliott’s fingers.

“Do you normally give your number to clients?” Lucas asks, looking at Eliott through his eyelashes. Eliott coughs, chuckling as he shakes his head. His gaze is set to the floor before he’s looking back at Lucas, taking a step closer to him.

Eliott leans his face forward, eyes turning dark again. “Only to the ones whose pants I’ve pulled up. Which, if I remember correctly, leaves just you.”

Lucas’ mouth drops open in disbelief, feeling his legs turn to jelly. Eliott grins, a big one that makes his eyes crinkle, obviously satisfied he’s managed to throw Lucas speechless. And Lucas _is_ , it’s all he can do just to remain standing. But he doesn’t want to come across as someone who will fall to pieces at a few words, not yet. Lucas clears his throat, taking a tiny step towards to Eliott, and he places his hand on Eliott’s arm, tugging him closer so he can whisper in his ear.

“Hopefully next time you’ll be pulling them down,” Lucas murmurs, and he feels his lips brush up right against Eliott’s ear. He hears Eliott draw a breath and he pulls back, taking in Eliott’s stunned expression for just a few seconds before sauntering away, back towards the front of the store. He walks slowly, deliberately swinging his hips because without even looking back, he knows Eliott’s watching him. 

Lucas opens the door and pauses, turning his head back to look at Eliott one more time. Eliott’s standing in the same spot, arms stiff at his sides, and he’s smiling at Lucas and shaking his head slightly like he can’t believe what just happened. Lucas bites his lip to keep his smile from stretching over his entire face, and with one flick of his wrist he swings the door shut and walks out of the tattoo parlor. He’s already counting down the minutes until his tattoo heals.

***

So, Eliott Demaury. It's a thing. It's become a thing. 

Yann knows, the boys know, his internet search history and even their floor neighbor knows - an awkward miscalculation on Lucas’ part, really. An open window, very questionable noises coming from it, and well. He doesn't think he's gonna look Mrs. Debois in the eye for a very long time.

It's just- God. Every time he closes his eyes, he can feel the brush of Eliott's fingertips carefully studying the patch of skin on his hips. Storms of grey and sunshine in his dreams. Someone taller than him, and hands shoved down his pants. 

He feels self conscious sometimes. Almost as if he's twisting reality, turning his memory into something that wasn't. And he thinks that maybe he's in over his head, that he made the whole thing up, but then the burning piece of paper with Eliott's number in it in the back pocket of his jeans reminds him that maybe he didn't. 

And, okay. Maybe the pain from the tattoo made him delirious, but not enough that he has read all of the signs wrong. Right? 

"Oh for fuck's sake Lucas, just send him the fucking text." 

Lucas looks up from his phone to find Yann staring at him on the other side of the couch. He shoots Yann a blank stare, that Yann reciprocates with an unimpressed raised eyebrow. 

_We all know what is going on here. We're not ignoring it_. 

Lucas mirrors him, crossing his arms across his chest. 

_Fucking watch me_. 

Yann is the first one to break eye contact, rolling his eyes with exasperation. 

"Yesterday it was 'bro this looks reddish, don't you think it looks reddish? Should I have it checked it out?'” Yann imitates in a high pitched voice, and Lucas narrows his eyes. "Three days ago, you barged into my room at 10pm because 'it's itchy and burning the inside of my body, I should text Eliott to ask him about it right?' Props to you for that one by the way, you dramatic fuck." 

Lucas ducks his head, smacking his lips together to repress the smile playing at the corner of his lips. He watches from the corner of his eye as Yann keeps going, each excuse worse than the last one. And okay, maybe he went a bit overboard with it. 

Maybe. 

"And now you're concerned about some little bumps? Dude, c'mon, just say you wanna tap that ass and move on." The last sentence makes Lucas squeak indignantly, and Yann fixes him with a look. 

"Well, maybe it's not healing well!" Lucas fires back. "Excuse me for showing concern about the state of my body? " 

Yann blinks slowly.

"You're deadass the guy most addicted to Google Search that I've ever met." He says, deadpan. "Don't you ever try to lie to my face again." 

Lucas snorts, despite himself, ignoring the heat coming off his cheeks. He hates having a best friend. 

"Shut the fuck up." He grumbles weakly. Hands on his shoulder push him backwards, and Yann smiles at him as he pulls him closer on the couch until he's got his head nestled in Yann's lap. 

"I just- It's so stupid, I've barely seen him twice? I feel so stupid, but." Lucas sighs. He settles his phone on his chest, eyelashes fluttering from the artificial light coming from the ceiling. "He's special." 

Yann pats his shoulder, humming. "Just text him, Lucas."

Just text him. Yes. 

He's been meaning to all week, but that's part of the problem, Yann. He's nervous. So incredibly nervous, to send a text and be disappointed by the answer he'll receive. He doesn't want to be wrong about Eliott, is the thing. He really doesn't. 

He presses down on the power button on his phone, the screen lighting up with an unfinished text sitting on his drafts. 

_Hey! This is Lucas Lallemant :) You asked me to contact you if I had any questions about the healing process of my tattoo and_

God. He sounds so fucking lame. 

He closes his eyes for a second. 

**To: Eliott LPC**

_Hey! This is Lucas :) You asked me to contact you if I had any questions about the healing process of my tattoo and there's some redness surrounding the area of the tattoo? I was wondering if you could check it out?_

Well. There goes nothing. 

No better way to hit on the guy you've been obsessively fantasizing about for the past two weeks than by asking him to check out the rash near his dick, he supposes. 

Not longer than two minutes later, during which he spends anxiously biting around his nails, his phone pings. He's prepared for the 'it doesn't sound serious just Google it and please don't contact me again' text when he unlocks his phone, realistically, but not so much, because he doesn't think Eliott has a mean bone in his body. 

Nevertheless, that's not what he finds.

**From: Eliott LPC**

_Hey! I was beginning to think you had forgotten about your tattoo artist already haha. I'm pretty busy on Thursday but I think I can squeeze you in at 4?_

Lucas grins. He lets out a sigh of relief, heart tumbling out of his throat and a birthday party inside of his stomach, replying with shaky fingers.

**To: Eliott LPC**

_That works perfectly for me_

And then, because all the adrenaline is doing things to his brain-

**To: Eliott LPC**

_And of course I didn't forget you. You never forget your firsts ;) I'm more impressed that you remember *me*_

A beat later, his phone goes off again. 

**From: Eliott LPC**

_Boys like you aren't easy to forget, Lucas. They stay in your dreams forever._

The birthday party inside his belly is blowing out the candles, and Lucas catches himself grinning wider, heartbeat speeding up until he feels it in his ears. 

He has it so bad. How embarrassing. 

"My little Lucas." Yann's voice sounds above him, making him jump. "He isn't afraid of talking to boys anymore." 

Lucas shoves his middle finger up in Yann's face. 

Thursday, then. 

***

Lucas approaches the tattoo shop just as Eliott seems to be leaving. He’s closing the door, leaning against the wall just outside the shop, and pulling a cigarette from behind his ear to light it. Lucas puts on his best confident front, sauntering towards him, stepping heavily to make his arrival apparent.

Eliott looks up and gives Lucas a cigarette-between-the-lips smile, and Lucas’ stomach flips. 

“Hey,” Eliott says warmly. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Lucas replies vaguely with a grin, “just, you know, except for this tattoo problem. “But did I get the time wrong or something?” Eliott just tilts his head, confused, so Lucas adds on, “it looked like you were leaving.”

Eliott shakes his head and smirks knowingly. “Nah, just came out for a smoke. But, tattoo problem, huh. Well we can’t have that, now can we?” Eliott flicks away his cigarette and opens the door for Lucas.

Lucas walks in, feeling Eliott close behind him. Eliott goes to stand by the front counter, looking at Lucas expectantly, and Lucas blushes.

Lucas cocks his hip out to the side, raising his eyebrows. “What, you think I’m gonna do this myself?” He playfully picks at the waistband of his sweatpants and lets it snap back to his skin. “I wasn’t kidding the last time.”

Eliott’s eyes widen, but then he’s slowly walking over to Lucas, coming so close that Lucas can feel his smoky breath tickling his nose.

“I’ll just take a look then,” Eliott says, with a slight rasp to his voice. Lucas shivers as Eliott moves his hands to Lucas’ side, taking hold of his sweatpants and boxers and pulling them down a few inches, while Lucas simultaneously pulls up his t-shirt. Eliott chuckles and bends down to examine the tattoo, running his fingers lightly over the skin there every once in a while, sending electricity down Lucas’ spine and right to his crotch.

Eliott lets out a breath of approval. “Wow. I’ve outdone myself.”

“Your best work, I would say,” Lucas adds, looking down at Eliott.

Eliott removes his eyes from Lucas’ side to gaze back at him, stormy gray skies filling his eyes. “Only for you.”

Lucas’ heart thrums wildly in his chest, trying to fight a massive smile from spreading across his face. Instead he clears his throat and tears his eyes away from Eliott, unable to remain calm with Eliott below him like this.

“So,” Eliott stands back up, crowding right back up into Lucas’ space again, keeping a hand firmly on Lucas’ hip, squeezing slightly. 

“So,” Lucas challenges, looking Eliott right in the eye under hooded eyelids. Hesitantly, he rests his hand on top of Eliott’s, pressing down so he feels Eliott’s hand even more firm on his hip. His breath hitches. “What did you think?”

Eliott hums, rubbing his thumb back and forth on Lucas’ waist. “I think,” he says softly, moving to whisper in Lucas’ ear, “that the tattoo is perfectly fine.” He grazes his lips over Lucas’ ear. “And I think you really just wanted an excuse to come see me.”

Lucas gasps as Eliott’s face comes back into his vision, and their faces are so close, he could lean in just a few more inches and kiss him if he wanted. And god, he wants.

“No, I swear, it was itching,” Lucas lets out a quiet gasp as Eliott’s fingers creep under his shirt. “It was just an itch that needed a scratch.”

“Oh yeah? And now?” Eliott’s eyes drop to Lucas’ lips, swiping his tongue across his own to wet them.

“Now,” Lucas says, his view going blurry as he focuses on Eliott’s lips as he drifts towards him. Their noses brush together, and-

“Eliott, man!”

Lucas and Eliott spring apart as they look to the front of the shop, where two other guys have burst in. Lucas quickly yanks down his t-shirt and pulls his pants all the way up, making sure to cover his hard-on with the bottom of his shirt. He turns a furious shade of red as the two guys take in the scene in front of them with perceptive eyes and sly grins. 

“Really, Eliott? You thought you’d do Lu-”

“Idriss, Sofiane! How nice of you to come by! Now I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Eliott sternly commands them as he motions them towards the front of the shop. Lucas lingers by the counter, staying silent as Eliott deals with the guys Lucas is guessing are his friends.

Lucas snorts as he thinks about what a ridiculous picture he and Eliott must have made when they barged into the shop, and Eliott turns around to look at him, letting his guard down, allowing the guys to easily step around him

“Hey! You must be Lucas. I’m Idriss,” he puts a hand on his chest as if presenting himself, “and this is Sofiane. Eliott foolishly forgot to mention to us that he was planning on taking you in here today. Our apologies.”

“Oh my fucking _god_ ,” Eliott groans, putting his face in his hands. 

“And also, what do you mean ‘leave’? Were you too busy feeling your boy up to remember that we’re going to the skatepark right now?” Idriss turns back towards Eliott with his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, Eli, we made these plans, like, last week when we knew you’d have the afternoon off,” Sofiane chimes in.

“Fuck,” Eliott huffs. “Yeah. Sorry. Just give me a few minutes. Wait outside?”

Idriss and Sofiane chuckle and say _sure, man_ before exiting the shop, leaving Lucas and Eliott alone again.

Eliott turns around to look at Lucas again with a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, they can be a lot. I wanted to introduce you to them in a normal way but I-”

“You skate?”

Eliott perks up, obviously pleased that Lucas has asked. Eliott takes a few steps closer and smiles. “Yeah. For a few years. Me and the guys just go a couple times a week. It’s fun, just a good way to let off steam.” Eliott looks down at the floor, like he’s shy from explaining something he loves to do, and it’s adorable.

Lucas grins and raises his chin to meet Eliott’s eye. “I’ve never done it before. Skated, I mean.”

“Ah,” Eliott nods in understanding, leaning against the counter. “Well, I’ve been told I’m an excellent teacher.”

“Oh really? And what, you want to teach me?”

“Do you want me to?”

Lucas has a bike. And he takes the bus. He has absolutely no need for learning how to skateboard. “Yeah, I want you to.”

Eliott smiles, teeth and all, and something in Lucas’ chest bursts. “Okay, well if you want, I’m off again this Saturday afternoon. I could meet you there?” Eliott steps closer, the tips of his sneakers touching Lucas’.

“Eliott Demaury, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Lucas, um-”

“Lallemant.”

“Lucas Lallemant, it would be my pleasure.”

Lucas bites his lip, struggling to hold Eliott’s intense stare. “Okay.”

“I’ll text you a time?”

Lucas just nods, fully hypnotized by Eliott’s eyes and his skin and his lips and-

“Eliott! Let’s go!” 

It’s Idriss, again, this time banging on the window and gesturing for Eliott to come outside.

“I'll be right there! Jesus,” Eliott yells, and he turns back to Lucas. “I really, really, don’t want to go right now.”

Lucas chuckles and, because he can’t resist, raises up on his toes, kissing Eliott on the cheek. “I’ll see you on Saturday,” he whispers in Eliott’s ear before stepping around him and leaving the shop, and Eliott, behind him. 

On his way home, Lucas picks a single dandelion from the ground. He doesn’t blow the petals away, however. Instead, he tucks it inside the pocket of his t-shirt and smiles, feeling its warmth seep through the fabric and into his skin the whole way home.

***

Lucas arrives at the skatepark ten minutes before his and Eliott’s agreed-upon time. 

_6pm, I’ll meet you there_ , Eliott had told him. Lucas glances down at his phone and it’s currently five fifty-one, so he walks towards the outskirts of the park, leaning up against the concrete wall, and waits for Eliott.

Lucas really shouldn’t even be surprised that Eliott would be the skating type. Everything about him screams hipster; he’s a _tattoo artist_ for fuck’s sake. Lucas bets he probably listens to Mac DeMarco in his free time, pondering the philosophy of life while blowing smoke out his window. _But you would still think he’s hot as shit_ , Lucas thinks to himself. 

It’s five fifty-six now. Lucas huffs out a breath as he glances towards the skaters to his left who have grown in their number in the last few minutes. He feels so incredibly out of place. Lucas is a biology major who is anxious that these people will fall and break their bones, who is just in general not the type of person to radiate the aura that skaters always seem to carry with them. Like Eliott, even without talking to any of them Lucas can tell that they’re just _cool_ ; they’re smiling warmly, trying out new tricks, not caring if they fall. Just the opposite of Lucas, hard around the edges, too cautious. Cynical.

“Lucas!”

Lucas blinks and looks up. Eliott. He’s just arrived, walking over to Lucas, carrying his skateboard under one arm and what looks like a small bag slung around his body. Lucas tames his smile so that it’s just a small grin instead of the obnoxious smile threatening to stretch across his face. Eliott hardly looks different from the other times that Lucas has seen him, but there’s a couple of changes Lucas notices. First, Eliott has changed his short-sleeved black shirt to one that’s cut off at the shoulders, revealing the entirety of his arms, and of course, even more small tattoos decorating his upper arms. And once Eliott gets closer, Lucas sees that Eliott has exchanged his hoop earring for a silver, dangling cross. 

“Hey,” Lucas says, once Eliott is standing right in front of him. Eliott’s swaying slightly back and forth on his heels.

“Hi,” Eliott replies back, a smile growing on his face. “I’m glad you came.”

Lucas furrows his brow. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

“No, no,” Eliott shakes his head. “I just mean, I’m happy you’re here. This is one of my favorite places to come, and now you’re here.”

Lucas ignores the way his heart picks up beneath his chest, the way his head is screaming at him, _kiss him, kiss him right now_. 

“I’m here,” Lucas says softly, pulling his bottom between his teeth and looking up at Eliott shyly. 

Eliott continues looking at Lucas for another moment before he glances to his right at the skatepark. “You ready?” he asks, nudging Lucas’ shoulder with his own.

“I guess, although you know I’ve never done this before,” Lucas reminds him as they turn and begin walking, side by side, towards the rest of the skaters.

As they come to a stop right outside the half-pipe, the overwhelming sound of skateboards clattering on the ground and frustrated swears ringing through the warm air, Eliott rests his hand on Lucas’ forearm, pulling Lucas towards him. 

“Do you trust me?” Eliott asks him softly, eyes deep and searching.

“Of course I do,” Lucas answers, more quickly than he ever would normally allow.

Eliott pulls his skateboard from under his arm and places it on the ground in front of Lucas. “Okay, step up.”

Lucas raises his eyebrows in question. “Step up? Just like that? Are you sure there’s no big secret to skateboarding I need to learn?”

Eliott laughs and shakes his head, offering his hand to Lucas. “The big secret is that the first step is actually getting on the board, smartass.” 

Eliott grins and offers Lucas his hand, and Lucas takes it with ease, tangling his fingers with Eliott’s, filling his entire body with a warm, golden glow. 

“I’m definitely going to fall, just to let you know,” Lucas says, his voice slightly shaky as he nervously steps onto the board with one foot, still clutching Eliott’s hand.

“I’ll catch you,” Eliott replies softly, sincerely. Just then, Lucas steps up with his other foot, making the board sharply roll a few inches, and Lucas throws his other hand up to Eliott’s shoulder for balance, but Eliott has already placed his free hand firmly on Lucas’ waist to hold him.

Eliott grins. “Told you.” He takes Lucas’ hand off his shoulder and intertwines their fingers, squeezing once.

Lucas huffs out a breath and looks back up at Eliott, who is looking at Lucas with such an intense gaze that Lucas can feel his legs about to buckle. He removes his eyes from Eliott’s and takes it to his high cheekbones, to his sharp jawline, then to his pale, smooth neck, down to his delicate collarbone, slightly exposed with the way his shirt has shifted. Then Lucas’ eye catches again on the strap of the black bag that’s slung around Eliott’s body. He glances back to Eliott again.

“What’s in the bag?”

Eliott’s eyes widen, like he hadn’t been expecting Lucas to ask. “It’s my camera.”

“Yeah? Why did you bring your camera, you thought you could get some sick shots of me falling on my face?”

Eliott chuckles, taking a few slow steps to the side, moving Lucas along on the skateboard, still holding onto his hands. “I take it with me everywhere. You never know when you’re gonna see something beautiful. Although I guess for today it was more certain.” Eliott shrugs nonchalantly, like he’d just said something so casual. Lucas, however, is fighting to keep his body stable on the board, feeling like he could melt into a puddle at any moment.

“I’m, I’m not-” Lucas stutters, “I’m not really beautiful, though.”

Eliott abruptly stops walking, making Lucas almost fling off the board if it hadn’t been for Eliott’s strong grasp on his hands.

“What did you say?”

Lucas drops his head, trying to avoid Eliott’s eyes, but Eliott swiftly lets go of one of his hands and tilts his chin up with his fingers. “No, Lucas. What did you say?”

Lucas sighs, focusing on the point right on the tip of Eliott’s nose. “I don’t think I’m beautiful. That’s all.”

Eliott’s face shifts into something sad, and Lucas’ stomach twists. “Why do you think that?”

“It’s just,” Lucas starts, shivering when Eliott brings both of his hands up to cup Lucas’ face, “no one’s ever treated me like I am. No one has ever made me feel like I’m beautiful. So I guess it’s kind of hard to believe that I am.”

Eliott lets out a breath and takes a step closer to Lucas. “Come here,” he motions with his head, and Lucas carefully steps off the board, following Eliott to where he walks. Eliott stops at a point where the sun is beginning to set, casting the sky in gold. He moves forward again so he can take Lucas’ face in his hands once more.

“Do you want to know what I think is beautiful about you?”

“I’m guessing you’re going to tell me whether I want you to or not,” Lucas chuckles lightly.

The corners of Eliott’s mouth turn up as he smiles softly, tilting his head as he looks at Lucas. “Your hair. It’s the first thing I noticed about you when I saw you that night. The way it’s so out of order but somehow always looks perfect.” Eliott picks at a stray piece of Lucas’ hair. “Your eyes. They’re the kind of eyes that deserve to be stared at for hours, to have poetry written about them. I could look into your eyes for the rest of time.” He brushes his thumb under Lucas’ eye.

“Eliott,” Lucas whispers, hands moving to hold onto Eliott’s shirt.

“Your skin. It makes you look so warm, like a golden sun just shining, effortlessly.” Eliott takes both of his hands off of Lucas’ face and runs them lightly down Lucas’ arms, and back up until he can loop them around Lucas’ neck. “The way you care so deeply about your mother. So deeply that you got a piece of her tattooed on your skin forever. That’s beauty, Lucas. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”

“Fuck, Eliott,” Lucas sniffs, just becoming aware of the slight moisture that’s gathered in his eyes. 

Eliott rests his forehead against Lucas’, rubbing their noses together. “But the most beautiful thing about you, I think, is your lips. They look so soft, just like I think you are. They should never have to go a single day without being kissed.”

Eliott has barely finished his last sentence before Lucas is pulling him down by his grip on his shirt and kissing him, finally doing the one thing that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since he had first seen Eliott.

Eliott melts into the kiss almost immediately, his arms tightening around Lucas’ neck and pressing their bodies together as he responds to the kiss, crushing his lips against Lucas’. Lucas whimpers against Eliott’s lips and Eliott takes the sign, opening his mouth wider and kissing Lucas deeper. Lucas wraps his arms fully around Eliott’s waist, licking into Eliott’s mouth and enjoying the deep groan it brings out of him. Eliott doesn’t seem to want to stop anytime soon, as he pushes his tongue further into Lucas’ mouth, making Lucas stumble a few steps backwards. Eliott goes with him, laughing into Lucas’ mouth as he cups his face, kissing down his neck in hot, open kisses, searing into Lucas’ sensitive skin.

“Fuck,” Lucas pants, throwing his head back slightly to give Eliott more access. It’s only then that Lucas realizes they’re still in public, and the way they’re kissing is certainly not something that should be seen by anyone else. “Eliott.” Lucas grabs the sides of Eliott’s face and detaches him from his neck, laughing when Eliott lets out a frustrated sound. Eliott’s lips are already red and swollen, and the sight has sparks running low in Lucas’ belly.

“Eliott,” Lucas repeats, once he has Eliott’s attention again. “Is there somewhere else we could go? Just us?”

“Just us,” Eliott repeats as he smirks. “What kind of man do you take me for exactly, Lallemant?”

“Someone who thinks we’re both wearing far too many clothes, maybe?”

Eliott’s jaw drops, and Lucas snorts, grinning as he takes Eliott’s hand. “So?”

“Sofiane and Idriss aren’t home,” Eliott says in a rush, his gaze falling to Lucas’ lips again. 

Lucas smiles, leaning up to press another kiss to Eliott’s lips that was meant to be quick, only Eliott presses back against him, making Lucas sigh contentedly against his mouth.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Lucas says once Eliott has let him go.

Eliott fumbles to grab his skateboard from the ground, tucking it under his arm again and taking Lucas’ hand in his, kissing the back of it. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

***  
The flowers on the sidewalk look faded when they run past them. Sky blue, Eliott’s hand alive in his, his vision blurs with want and a feeling he’d rather not put a name to yet. The sun loses its brightness with each passing second, and the sweat pooling under his bottom lip doesn’t come back after Eliott licks it off.

He’s blinded to anything that isn’t Eliott, deaf to anything that isn’t their loud laughter as they run through crosswalks and make turns around the corners. He knows that, logistically, the world is still turning. Birds chirping, cars caught in headlights and the busy Paris life, he’s sure, but his body doesn’t let him see past the tingling of his lips, where they had been attached to Eliott one minute before.

The ghost of Eliott’s hands on his waist cools him off, and then Eliott is smiling at him, grinning, laughter in his eyes, and he’s stopping them at a red light with his hand to Lucas’ chest. Lucas looks at him, tilts his head to one side, confused smile on his face.

“Have you ever been carried by someone on a skateboard?” He asks, placing the skateboard on the ground, and Lucas laughs.

“No?”

Eliott crouches down. “Well, hop on.”

And Lucas does.

A little because he’s curious, and it looks cool in the movies. A lot because he’s drunk off Eliott’s lips, has been wanting to get his hands on him since he first saw him. Wrap his legs around Eliott’s narrow waist, hold onto him until his hands hurt. Well, drunk people make stupid decisions.

“You better hold on tight, or we might crash into a pole.” Eliott says, stepping onto the board. “Don’t move too much.”

Lucas tightens his grip across Eliott’s neck, around his waist. Eliott’s back is warm against his chest. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

The light turns green, and they’re off before Eliott has answered. The wheels rolling on the pavement make a constant noise, that Lucas hadn’t realized was so loud until he was on top of a boy riding a skateboard, the wind hitting his cheeks, Eliott screaming over the noise to make himself heard. 

“Does it matter?” 

Lucas hides his nose in the crock of Eliott’s neck as a response.

The rest of the way feels like a fever dream. Random faces all blur together as they pass them on the street. The city turns darker, and when the wind picks up, Lucas’ only source of warmth is the fingers gripping the back of his thighs. 

By the time they get to Eliott’s building, the gold in Eliott’s hair has turned into dark honey, and Lucas wants to _touch_. Eliott gets off the skateboard with a swift motion before dropping Lucas back down on the ground. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

He nudges the skateboard with his foot just as he pushes Lucas against the wall. The skateboard touches the concrete at the same time that Lucas’ backs does, and it steals a startled gasp out of him. 

Lucas looks up at Eliott. “Well, hi.” He breathes, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Eliott’s eyes light up when he beams, “hello.”

His arms fall on either side of Lucas’ head, and Lucas hasn’t felt safer in the public eye than he does now, he thinks. Caged between Eliott’s arms. He lets Eliott squish their noses together, nudging back and forth with their breaths mixing between them. He can feel Eliott’s chest rising against his, the sharp pick of his breath when Lucas tilts his head to one side slightly.

It’s with half a smile that he grips the small hairs at the back of Eliott’s neck and presses their mouths together. Eliott hums into the kiss, lips sliding eagerly over Lucas’. Lucas parts his lips, pushing closer, his nose dragging across Eliott’s cheek as Eliott’s tongue swipes down on his bottom lip. 

There’s heat between his legs, from Eliott’s body pressed against his, the roll of Eliott’s teeth biting down on his tongue softly. Eliott presses their fronts together as Lucas presses a kiss to his jaw, and Lucas swears.

“I don’t think you want to get arrested for public indecency today.” Lucas pants between kisses. Eliott hums against his lips, hands moving to cup his cheeks. “Seriously.”

Eliott noses at his jawline, making Lucas shiver. “You’d be surprised about the list of things I’d be willing to do for boys like you.”

Lucas snorts. His hands travel down Eliott’s shoulders, smooth skin under his palms, all the way to his wrists. 

“You keep talking about those ‘boys like me’, should I be concerned?” He asks jokingly, holding Eliott’s hands flat against his face. “Do you have a type?”

Eliott pushes their foreheads together. Something tickles Lucas’ cheeks, faces so close that Lucas can’t tell whether it’s from his breath or his fluttering eyelashes, and his thumb plays with the corner of Lucas’ mouth.

“Boys like you,” Eliott hums thoughtfully. The tip of his thumb dips between Lucas’ lips, heavy on Lucas’ mouth. He shrugs after a second. “I don’t know, you’re the first one I’ve found. If you find another one like you, let me know.”

Lucas pushes Eliott’s thumb out with his tongue. Eliott complies silently, resting his wet finger onLucas’ cheek.

“And why would I tell you if I did?” 

Eliott’s eyes are the color of the night when he answers, teasing smirk playing at his lips that Lucas is dying to kiss off. “So don’t tell me.” He says, and then he’s swiping his thumb over Lucas’ lower lip roughly before kissing him again. “I don’t think you’ll find him anyway.”

Lucas sees colors behind his eyelids.

He’s not sure how they get all the way up the stairs and inside Eliott’s apartment. Somewhere between a kiss behind his ear and Eliott’s futile attempt at shoving his hand down Lucas’ pants, _in public_ may he add, he supposes, he conjured enough willpower to push Eliott off him and drag him inside by the shirt. 

He’s not above Eliott shoving his hands inside his pants, don’t get him wrong, Eliott could get his hands on him any time and Lucas would probably say thank you. He just doesn’t wanna be a feature in the news.

Imagine: _horny young adults that can’t keep it in their pants the 20 stairs that would take them to privacy and instead do it against an apartment building in plain sight._

Right. Not very advertising worthy.

He dodges a bullet then, when he finally hears the front door slamming closed behind him. A second later, Eliott is crowding him against the door. Lucas doesn’t have time to take breath before he feels hands gripping his hips.

Lips suck on his neck, and the voice that was about to call Eliott out for having a thing for pinning him to flat surfaces - as evidence has shown - dies at his throat. 

“Can I kiss you in peace now?” Eliott asks against his neck, thumbs playing with the bare skin above the elastic band of his underwear.

Lucas suppresses a sigh, letting his head fall against the door. “With all the trouble that we went through?” He says in a whisper. His hands go to Eliott’s hair, pushing him closer and keeping him in place. “I’m expecting a little more than kissing.”

Strands of soft hair tickle his chin when Eliott pulls off to look at him. 

“Is that so?” He quirks an eyebrow, and he looks so goddamn smug-

He looks so goddamn smug, as gorgeous as Lucas has ever seen him, and if this is his thought so early on he already knows he’s fucked. Beautiful, with his messed up hair and his shirt all wrinkled up at the sides, from where Lucas pulled and gripped and played with. His lips are swollen, red where Lucas kissed him, and everything in him screams Lucas, Lucas did that to him. And Lucas.

Lucas has to get his mouth on him.

Wreck him further. See how far he can go.

With Eliott’s tongue between his teeth, he slides his hands down Eliott’s back and over his ass. He squeezes, swallowing the moan that Eliott breathes into his mouth when their crotches press together. 

With murmurs of “bedroom” and “shit, careful with the table” pressed against skin, hands roaming each others’ bodies, they make it to Eliott’s room. His jeans are hanging around his knees, and Eliott trips over his shoe, falling into the bed, and with him goes Lucas.

Eliott under him, in bed, with pink cheeks from the heat and marks on his neck in the shape of Lucas’ mouth is an image Lucas wishes to brand in the deepest of his mind. A memory to keep forever inside his head, so he can come back to it whenever he pleases. Eliott’s shirt flies over their backs, and there he is. All bared down for Lucas, his chest going up and down, face hungry and fingers scraping at Lucas’ shoulders asking him to bend over.

There’s a tattoo high on his chest that Lucas wants to lick. So he does.

“Fuck.” Eliott inhales with wonder. He crosses his ankles over the small of Lucas’ back, pushing their bodies closer. “I really thought you couldn’t get hotter. What the fuck?”

Lucas snorts on his way to Eliott’s stomach, hiding his flushed cheeks there. “You’re hotter.” He confesses. His lips brush Eliott’s skin when he speaks, and he feels the shiver that runs through him against his mouth. 

He smiles involuntarily. It’s hard to think you’re not attractive when a beautiful boy reacts like that to the brush of your lips. 

He lets his fingers tease Eliott’s sides, fingertips running up and down his hips in a way that has Eliott squirming under him. With his tongue he licks, with his teeth he grazes the sensitive skin beneath his belly button, a trail of saliva drawing little figures all the way down to his crotch. 

Eliott swears under him as he hooks his fingers on the inside of his underwear and pulls it down.

He kisses the tip of Eliott’s dick. “I want to suck you off.” He says, searching Eliott’s eyes. “Can I?”

Eliott groans, throwing his arm over his eyes. 

“Be my fucking my guest.”

The sound that Eliott makes when he wraps his mouth around him will be etched in his brain forever. Crawling between Eliott’s open legs, he supports himself with his hands on either sides of Eliott’s hips as he sinks down further. He alternates between taking Eliott in his mouth and pressing kisses to the soft skin on the inside of his thighs, easing up the length slowly.

“Holy-” Eliott groans, bucking his hips up.

Lucas pulls off. He shoots Eliott a dirty grin, dirtier than normal with the drool that he feels pooling at the corners of his mouth, and moves his hands to pin Eliott into the mattress.

“Hips on the mattress.” He says, and then he’s going down on him again. 

He goes until his jaw aches. A little out of practice, because it’s been a long time, and he doesn’t have much experience to begin with, he takes, and takes, until Eliott starts squirming under his hands. Until Eliott’s sounds become unbearable and he has to sneak a hand to cup himself over his underwear, until his stretched lips burn and he gags, and a little bit further after that.

“No.” Eliott says suddenly, pulling Lucas’ head back by his hair. “Don’t touch yourself. I want to do it.”

So Lucas takes his hand off his underwear.

“Good boy,” Eliott sighs, and the words make heat pool in his stomach. Lucas makes a very embarrassing sound, that would have been more embarrassing if it hadn’t been muffled by Eliott’s dick in his mouth. “Keep going.”

Lucas keeps going. Eliott’s hands stay on his hair as he bobs his head up and down. He gets lightheaded for a second, and he stops to breathe through his nose. Eliott brushes his hair out of his eyes, a gesture so sweet that makes Lucas look up. And what a fucking image he must be, he thinks, with a dick in his mouth and drool dribbling down his chin, his hair a fucking mess.

“You’re beautiful. Lucas, you’re a goddamn masterpiece.” Eliott whispers in that moment. He brushes Lucas’ cheek with the back of his hand softly before holding his hair back. “Please let me keep you.”

And Lucas wants to scream, _you can keep me, I want to keep you too. Let me keep you too._ But he doesn’t. Instead, he swirls his tongue over the head of Eliott’s hard-on, and with a death grip to Eliott’s hips he swallows Eliott down again.

“Lucas-”

He can tell Eliott is getting closer from the way his body turns restless under Lucas. By the way he yanks at Lucas’ hair and the curses that fall from his lips, and in a crazy haze of sex and heat Lucas thinks that he would like to have those curses breathed inside his mouth as Eliott rides him in this very mattress. 

Lucas pulls off a bit, fitting his hand under his mouth. He pulls, jerks, and licks, and sucks, hand slick and wet from the work he’s done on Eliott, making Eliott groan louder as his moves become faster.

Eliott’s hips stutter out three times before he’s coming all over Lucas’ lips with a strangled yell of his name. And Lucas? Well. He’s pretty fucking proud of himself.

And so horny he can’t see past Eliott’s cum-covered stomach.

“Come here, up, up,” Eliott asks breathlessly, tugging at his arms weakly. Lucas climbs up into Eliott’s arms, lets himself be held as Eliott sneaks one hand inside the front of his underwear. “Up here, this is good. Missed kissing your face.”

With one hand he cups Lucas’ face, the other moving inside Lucas’ underwear in a way that has Lucas throwing his head back against the pillows. There’s lips kissing his cheeks, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, as Eliott swipes his thumb over his head, and he’s sure that Eliott is basically cleaning his face of his own come, and-

It should be more disgusting than it feels, Lucas thinks, Eliott licking his face free of come, but there’s something playing inside his chest that feels like the opposite of disgust. It’s something very much not appropriate in the middle of sex, or at least not so soon, not when you’ve had only one date with the guy.

And Lucas can’t help but think, _it’s too soon_ , and _I shouldn’t be feeling so much so soon_ , and _it scares me_ , and _please_.

Please.

“I want to take care of you.” Eliott says into his ear. Every hair in Lucas’ body stands, and he can’t do anything but to stare up at Eliott dumbly. “Can I?”

When did Eliott switch positions?

He feels Eliott’s thigh between his legs, pressing down on his crotch, and Eliott’s hands cupping the back of his head, and when he looks up the only thing missing are the wings to classify Eliott as an angel.

“You want to take care of me?”

Eliott gives him a calculated look before dropping a kiss to his cupid’s bow. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

 _Forever, forever, forever, forever_ -

Lucas lets his eyes fall closed. Shuts his brain off like a switch.

“Fuck.”

So he lays there. He lays there as Eliott presses kisses to every inch of his skin. He lays there, as Eliott licks a stripe down his stomach and blows softly, forcing his body to stay still. He lays there when every kiss comes with a praise, Eliott’s mouth turning his body into beauty, and he nearly forgets the hardness inside his underwear until Eliott’s tongue dances around his hip bones like a ballerina.

“Beautiful.” Eliott whispers into his skin, his hands roaming up and down Lucas’ body, and Lucas moans softly. “So beautiful everywhere. If you could see what I see.”

“Eliott-”

“Shh,” Eliott shushes softly before planting a kiss to the juncture of his hips. He presses small kisses around his tattoo, because Lucas knows that’s what he’s doing, and he has to pull on his own hair to keep from exploding. “Gorgeous. So soft. How are you real?”

Eliott’s hands burn nicely across his sides and down his thighs when Eliott grips them to part his legs. His lips leave an invisible path down his body, a string of words that have Lucas flushing with heat. He tastes his heart beating on his tongue as Eliott works him with his hands and his mouth.

There’s white noise ringing in his ears. Eliott’s hands are everywhere, his mouth working dirty miracles on his dick, and then his tongue is traveling to lick down his tongue and between his cheeks, and Lucas gasps.

“Eliott, I’m-” He stutters out. Eliott hums around his dick. “I’m close-”

Lucas gasps, and he doesn’t stop gasping, wet little sounds that fall from his lips as Eliott parts his cheeks with his thumbs and gets Lucas wet everywhere with his tongue. Lucas floats in a cloud of drool, Eliott’s touch and Eliott’s voice, his whole body trembling as Eliott tightens his grip on his ass at the same time that he swallows him down.

The tip of his dick touches the back of Eliott’s throat. 

“ _Eliott_ -”

Everything in him tenses up. The hands on his hair, his stomach. His thighs, that tremble on Eliott’s hold, his jaw, his tongue doing maneuvers in an attempt to warn Eliott that come too late. Eliott keeps working him until his legs stop trembling.. He works him until Lucas whines and pushes at his shoulder halfheartedly.

Works him until Lucas whispers a pitiful “Eliott…” and then he’s moving up until he’s in Lucas’ space.

It should be scary, the easiness in which they find a comfortable position, but somehow it isn’t. Arms around waists and legs intertwined together, Eliott’s head resting on Lucas’ shoulder and Lucas’ nose buried in Eliott’s hair. 

Lucas rubs his hand up and down Eliott’s bare back lazily while Eliott draws small circles on Lucas’ hip, and Lucas smiles when he realizes that Eliott is tracing his tattoo.

“So.” Lucas starts, leaving the sentence hanging awkwardly.

“So,” Eliott agrees. Saves him. “I like you an embarrassing amount.”

His heart beats loudly at the confession, and he tightens his grip across Eliott’s back. 

“I do too. A fucking lot.” He confesses. It ears him a kiss on the neck, and he shivers, bending down to press a kiss to Eliott’s forehead. “Although skate and skate… you didn’t teach me much.” He adds, because he knows it will make Eliott laugh.

Can smiles be felt against someone’s skin? Is it a thing? Because he can feel Eliott’s beam burning through his skin. Eliott’airy laugh follows, and Lucas has to bite his lip to keep his cheeks from splitting in half.

“Ohh, you wanna go now?” Eliott laughs, propping himself up on Lucas’ chest. “Let’s go bro, have at it. C’mon.”

He puffs his chest out ridiculously, like he’s down for a fight, so ridiculously endearing that Lucas’ heart does backflips in his chest.

“Oh my god,” he laughs, pushing at Eliott’s chest. “Shut _up_.”

Warm hands go to his cheek, and Eliott cups his face delicately. He looks at Lucas for a moment before pressing a soft kiss between his brows. To his chin. Under his eye.

“ _No_.”

Lucas huffs. “I don’t like you.”

“Now _that_ I know is a lie.” He punctuates the last word with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. And Lucas-

Lucas could lie right now. Make light out of the situation, turn words with weight into feathers, because it’s what he does best, and what’s easier for him. Always has been. But he doesn’t, not this time.

So instead he cups Eliott’s face back. He takes Eliott’s face in his hands, precious between his fingers and warm between his palms. He holds Eliott in his hands, and he brings their mouths together, and he kisses him. Softly and slow.

“Yeah, it is.”

When he wakes up, it’s to the smell of pancakes and a kiss on the cheek. He’s never been more sure of anyone in his life.

***

_2 years later_

Yann is waiting for him in the other room with a leg propped against the wall, like the cool asshole that he is.

“I can’t believe you cheated on Eliott.” He says in a lieu of greeting.

Lucas rolls his eyes wordlessly, taking his coat off the rack. “Don’t you ever get tired of being annoying?”

Yann laughs behind him, falling into step with him as Lucas opens the glass door of the shop.

“Seriously, though.” Yann complains, pushing at his shoulder. “Let me see.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lucas grumbles, although it’s all show. And Yann knows it, he hasn’t been able to tone down his excitement since they got here. He rolls up the sleeve of his jacket. “Here.”

Yann takes his arm in his hand, holding it closer to his face, and Lucas almost laughs at how stupid they must look.

“Bro…” Yann breathes after a moment. He brushes a hesitant finger over the plastic foil on his wrist. “It’s fucking beautiful. Eliott is gonna lose his shit.”

Lucas smiles down at his wrist. “You think?” He asks, brushing his fingers over it along Yann.

“10 bucks he’ll cry.”

Lucas barks out a laugh.

“He’s not gonna _cry_.”

-

He cries.

It starts with a “love, I’m home!” as he kicks off his shoes and drops the keys on the table, Eliott’s little “in the kitchen!” setting his heart off with anticipation.

And in the kitchen he finds him, doing God knows what, because he’s given up and doesn’t ask questions anymore. In the kitchen, with brown powder on his nose and his hands, and Lucas will totally regret this later, because his white shirt is gonna feel it, he’s sure, but he looks so annoyingly cute that he lets himself be picked up and kissed on top of the kitchen counter.

There’s a kiss to his lips, short and sweet. A brush of their noses, and Lucas is gonna be sporting brown powder on his face all afternoon too, isn’t he? So he says fuck it, might as well, and wraps his legs around Eliott, pulling him closer and kissing him deeper.

He doesn’t even flinch when he feels Eliott’s dirty hands cup his hips.

“Missed you” Eliott whispers against his lips, to which Lucas answers with another quiet “missed you too” of his own.

“What was that important thing that you couldn’t let me go with you?” Eliott asks as he kisses down the expanse of Lucas’ neck, and Lucas throws his head back, gripping the edge of the counter with his hands.

“Hmm.” He hums. “I did a thing.”

“A thing?” Eliott asks between kisses.

“A thing.” Lucas confirms. “Close your eyes.” 

Eliott gives him a confused look, amusement swimming in his eyes before letting them slip closed with a faint smile on his lips. He's so beautiful Lucas' heart aches. 

Rolling the sleeve of his sweater, the same way he had done with Yann, he places his wrist under Eliott's nose. "You can open them now." He whispers. 

Eliott's sharp intake of breath isn't lost on him - no surprise there, he notices everything about him. His hands go to Lucas' forearm, fingers resting delicately where the plastic foil begins. Almost like he's afraid to touch. 

The stem of a sunflower stretches across his skin. The thin black lines that outline the petals shine against the raw skin, curling prettily on the inside of his wrist. 

“Do you like it?”

Eliott makes a little sound high on his throat, rising Lucas' wrist up to his mouth. His lips brush over the sensitive area softly, almost like he's kissing the tenderness away. 

“Lucas… It’s-"

Lucas' legs tighten across Eliott's waist. He brings his hands up to curl protectively across Eliott's neck, cupping his jaw, thumbs drying his emotions away. 

“My beautiful sunflower. You make the world brighter, my sun.”

“I love you so much.” Eliott's voice breaks when he whispers. 

Lucas presses their foreheads together. Draws his thumb behind Eliott's ear, where he knows a little universe full of stars and a little moon hides. Lucas' own universe, kept in Eliott's skin. “We match now.”

And Eliott looks at him then. His eyes sparkle, like the sea during a storm, wet, and vibrant, and alive. 

“We always have.”

And Lucas supposed that, yes. They do, don't they? The sun and the moon, the most tragic love story in the universe, Eliott used to tell him. One can't exist without the other, yet they'll never meet. 

_What about eclipses?_ Lucas would remind him. 

_Then, I suppose, the sun and the moon would wish to live in an eternal eclipse._

Lucas thinks this is their eternal eclipse, right here. He could tell him that, and another hundred things. But he keeps it simple. 

“I love you.”

He loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi!  
> [helen](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/eliotts-eyes)  
> [ro](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sandalwoodhusbands)


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